


Mon petit canard

by Morethancupcake



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, insecure!oliver, part of the Coliver's Valentine exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 10:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3352724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He doesn't even ask about Oliver and his knowledge of almost everything on earth, but yeah, boarding school meant mandatory French lessons, and Gosh he's glad he paid attention. "</p><p>My prompt was : "Coliver speaking/learning French". </p><p>They start to speak French. It's silly and it's ajust a game, but maybe it's not ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mon petit canard

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the lovely prompt : "Coliver speaking/learning French". So obviously I went all sappy and cheesy. Because Valentine's day, guys. 
> 
> The title means " My little duck". You can find all the traductions in the notes at the end.

The first time it happens, it's an accident.

Connor is sprawled all over the floor, notes gathered around him, hair flat on one side of his head, spiky on the other. He needs to get things done, he needs to email it right away... He's too busy fretting to avoid Oliver, who almost crashes into him, too lost into his kindle to notice his boyfriend colonizing the tiny living room. 

"Come on, Ollie !" Connor is frowning, because okay, it might be annoying to bring work on a date night, but it's even worse to fight for your man's attention, especially over a book. He's pouting, silently begging for a kiss or two, or maybe a hug, putting his notes away for later and grumbling about assholes who could watch before they slam into you and try to murder you.

Ollie laughs and kisses him softly before going to the kitchen, getting rid of his bag and his coat. Connor might have stopped everything to watch. "Okay, okay beau prince, I'll order pizza for us, what do you think ?" Oliver misses his look of complete surprise, too caugh up that he is into the restaurant menu. After a beat, Connor remembers to shout at him to forget any weird ideas about pineaple on pizza. Dork.

It happens again, soon. Oliver is cooking, humming a silly song and almost dancing. Connor is watching him, pretending to clean when he's actually just watching his man, pretending to run a sponge on the counter and not to feel so sappy and good and warm. Everything is so much better with Ollie in his life. Even this little bubble of pure domestic life, it's funny and light and perfect. With Oliver.

"Are you ogling my behind, Connor ?"

He is sure Oliver can hear the grin he tries to hide when he answers, scrubbing harder "You have to admit it's a very nice specimen. It's for science, mostly." Ollie gigles, but he keeps his eyes on the pot. "What are you making anyway, it smells heavenly ?"

"Ratatouille. I saw a little boy playing with a plushie on my way home, thought it would be a good idea."

"It's a great idea." He pretends to be interested in the bubbling mess in the pot for a total of two seconds, and then begs for a kiss, offering his cheek to Ollie's lips. "Didn't know you knew how to cook. Especially fancy French dishes."

"I have many skills, chaton" whispers Oliver against the skin on his neck. He doesn't answer. It's too good to talk.

Thing is, they're not technically ready for petnames. Or more exactly, Oliver isn't. It's like a dance, a well-organized ballet they know by heart. Now they are officially a couple, and Connor's toothbrush is on the bathroom, and he even has a whole drawer, but things are still difficult. A little forced sometimes. Oliver will refrain from using words like boyfriend, couple, date. Connor will hammer them with maybe too much passion but he can't help it. He's in love. He had said it. Technically, he is the only one who really said it, and it makes him a little anxious, especially since Ollie said nothing since that night. More than like didn't really mean love.

But he has hope. Ollie holds his hand, and runs his fingers through his hair when he's falling asleep, kissing his forehead. He's bringing him hot chicken soup when he's sick, and he's waiting for him at night, in a bed that could technically be theirs.

So yeah, they have matching pjs, but he's still Connor, Con when Oliver is pestering him about his socks that should be in the basket and not on the floor. He's not a beautiful prince, and certainly not a kitten. It should make him laugh, but he keeps the words close to his heart. He loves it.

It happens again, and this time, it's him. He doesn't even ask about Oliver and his knowledge of almost everything on earth, but yeah, boarding school meant mandatory French lessons, and Gosh he's glad he paid attention. Tonight is his turn to cook, which means he bought cheese, bread and wine, and he is going for the whole candle light vibe to distract his boyfriend. They eat in silence, happy to be finally together after a whole week of running and schedule and deadlines.

"No dessert then ?" Ollie is comfortable, sitting on the floor, back against the couch, and Connor knows he's too happy to move. He's wearing that little smile he's so crazy about. It makes him feel so good, to be able to make Oliver looks like this.

"As you wish, mon coeur" He flies to the kitchen after a quick peck on the lips, avoiding Ollie's reaction. When he comes back, they both pretend the heated kiss is a thank you for the tub of chocolate mousse on the coffee table.

It's almost a game, now. They come up with cute things, things they heard in movies, or in those stupid French songs they start to play when they're cleaning or just being lazy on Sunday evenings. All these things Oliver is too afraid to say, too afraid to admit, he whispers them in the dark, he sings them when they're showering together and they're laughing so hard. He quotes movies they watch in bed, and they both fight over vocabulary and authors and books. It's almost a game, so they forget to be afraid.

"Mon amour" they say, when their kisses turn heavy and hot.

"Mon ange" Oliver says against his forehead when he wakes up from a nightmare.

"Ne me quitte pas." Connor begs into his neck after a fight, eyes red and scared.

"Je t'aime." Oliver whispers one night, when they've cooled down, and they're trying to breathe, still wrapped around each other.

Connor thinks he should be mad, he should be upset, and question it. Oliver is hiding, Oliver is joking but... This is theirs. So what if they butchering it everyday, and their accents are probably hilarious when they're trying to sing and dance, but... It's theirs. Words borrowed to bad movies on Netflix and awful Spotify playlists they should be ashamed of. It has nothing to do with fights, and tears, and that door slamming to his face.

French was supposed to be the language of love, with cheesy poems about eternal love and forevers. It was writers and poets and infinity and perfection.

But now,Oliver calling him his little duck when he was falling asleep was enough to make him truly and completely happy. Like their songs and their laughs, it was weird, and a little broken on the edge, but perfect.

So he takes Ollie's face in his hand, and kisses his lips softly, once, twice, pouring all his love in these chaste and perfect little kisses.

"I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> beau prince : beautiful prince
> 
> chaton : kitten
> 
> mon coeur : my heart
> 
> mon amour : my love
> 
> mon ange : my angel
> 
> ne me quitte pas : don't leave me
> 
> je t'aime : I love you
> 
> mon petit canard : my little duck
> 
> As usual, you can find it on my tumblr. Likes, kudos and comments are chocolate to the soul.
> 
> http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/110992793529/mon-petit-canard


End file.
